Page 46 of Dr. Intern

“To tequila,” we echo, clinking our shots together.

The burning liquid slides down my throat. It’s harsh, but surprisingly not as awful as I expected. A delicious warmth washes through me, and for a moment, I forget about Beau and the fact that I wish he were here to experience the fun.

As our waiter collects the empty shot glasses, he unexpectedly grips my hand, lifting it slowly toward his lips as if he’s going to kiss my knuckles. I chuckle uncomfortably, thankful for the alcohol flowing through my veins, easing this somewhat awkward moment. But instead of kissing my hand, he takes my two middle fingers into his mouth and sucks, his ink-colored eyes glimmering with mischief.

I nervously giggle as Morgan cries, “Fuck yes, you’re getting one hell of a tip tonight, Miguel.”

The rest of the evening flows in a blur with several more rounds of shots and margaritas. I’m pretty sure I agreed to go on a date with one of Morgan’s friends from college, who she had to video call during our meal because we would, “look so good together.”

After Mom died, I deleted my dating apps and have found myself in a serious dry spell. While I doubt Morgan has the best taste in men, I have to admit, the guy is super attractive and could be the perfect thing to scratch that itch. Plus, at least I know he’s not a serial killer.

Actually, scratch that . . . Morgan is one hundred percent the girl that would befriend a serial killer.She’s unhinged in the best way possible.

By the time we pay and make it out of the restaurant, it’s close to midnight, and I can barely feel my face. I haven’t had this much alcohol since college and definitely am beginning to feel a little queasy. I just need to make it across the street and into the warm bed that’s calling my name.

My stomach does a backflip.

On second thought, a trip to the bathroom might be necessary before I climb into bed.

“So, are you going to call him?” Morg slurs as we wait on the corner for their Uber. She’s referring to the waiter who left his number on the receipt then handed it directly to me.

“Noooooo, he’s too pretty.”

She runs her fingers through my hair, standing on her tiptoes to reach my head. “You’re pretty.”

I giggle. “No, you’re pretty.”

“You’re both pretty,” Cass says deadpan as she takes Morgan’s hand and pulls her to the car waiting down the street. Cassidy is the responsible one, and only had one margarita the whole night. Apparently, she and Parker are going to look at more furniture in the morning, and she doesn’t want to be hungover.

Boring.

Unfortunately, it seems like my brother has rubbed off on her.

“I love you, Cass!” I yell as I watch her shove Morgan in the car. “Have fun at the hardware shop tomorrow.”

Cass shakes her head. “It’s Restoration Hardware.”

“Right,” I nod my chin very seriously. “The carpenter shop.”

“Please get home safely,” she says, bringing me in for a hug. “I’ll see you on Thursday for Thanksgiving. Are you sure you don’t need a ride home?”

I shake my head. “I’m a strong, independent woman who can cross the street on her own, thank you very much.”

“That you are,” she says, winking as she runs to meet Morgan in the Uber.

Damn right, I am.

Chapter 19

Beau

Waiting up for Claire wasn’t part of my plan for the evening, but here I am, unable to allow myself to head to bed until I know she’s back safely. Thoughts of her going home with someone flooded my mind, and it became impossible to focus on studying for the rest of the evening.

By the time Claire comes crashing through the door it’s well past my bedtime, especially considering I have to be at the hospital by six tomorrow morning. Her cheeks are flushed a bright red, like the wind whipped them on her way back, and her hair is completely frazzled.

“You’re up late,” Claire sings, skipping into the kitchen like an amused child. She nearly loses her balance when her heel catches on the corner of the island, and she has to bend to steady herself, inadvertently gifting me with a glimpse of her long legs. As she begins to unzip her shoe, my cock twitches with the fantasy of seeing her completely naked and wearing nothing but those boots.She’s so goddamn sexy it hurts.

“Been busy reading about my cases tomorrow,” I reply casually as I watch her.In truth, all I’ve been able to do is sip my beer and stare aimlessly at the TV, but I’m not going to tell her that.

---